


to carry love, to carry children of our own

by rainpaint



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Valentine's Day, and pro whatever's best for baby AND parents is best, author is pro fed baby is best, discussions of feeding a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29456304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainpaint/pseuds/rainpaint
Summary: Jemma's trying her very best, but being a new parent is hard. Thankfully she's not alone.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	to carry love, to carry children of our own

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the same universe as [a fluid, ever-changing, beautiful thing](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/28387107), but you don't need to have read that one first. All you really need to know is that in that story, Alya was due on February 14 but was born about 2.5 weeks early.

Jemma looks at the numbers on the digital scale and shuts her painfully bleary eyes, a defeated sigh escaping through her nose. As she grabs a now-screaming Alya off the scale, she feels tears forming in her eyes. "Shh. Shh. It's all right. I've got you." She presses the tiny baby to her shoulder and pats her back while bobbing up and down. "I'm sorry," she finds herself whispering. "I'm so, so sorry." And now she's full-on crying.

She's beyond exhausted; she's hormonal (which she hates); and her poor, tiny baby is the same size she was when they weighed her a week ago, a stubborn .25 kg below her birth weight.

The worst part is that Jemma weighed her before and after attempting to nurse her--as always, it was an hour of Alya latching and immediately unlatching, crying from hunger and frustration, latching and nursing for maybe five minutes, and then unlatching to wail some more right before the letdown so that instead of getting the best milk into her tiny stomach, she ended up covered in it instead. And Alya's the same exact weight as she was before that umpteenth failed attempt, which means she didn't really drink anything.

Jemma doesn't know what she's doing wrong. She's drinking liters of water and eating oatmeal three times a day (she's sick of the stuff; she'd kill for some chocolate). She's taken to nursing in the Zephyr's cockpit so that she can look at the stars instead of worrying about what's going on at chest-level, which should help her relax so that her body will release the right hormones for producing milk. She's set an alarm so that she remembers to pump every three hours (though she hasn't managed to get more than 10 milliliters into that tiny tube after pumping both sides, but she knows it's supposed to help, so she keeps trying).

But the fact remains that Alya's not gaining weight, and that means she's not getting enough milk. And since Jemma's the only one who's giving her that milk, it must be her fault somehow.

Alya still wailing in her arms, Jemma sinks onto the floor of their makeshift lab and sobs.

"Jemma?" Fitz's voice cuts through the noise, barely, but enough to make Jemma look up and see him rushing over. He kneels next to her and takes Alya from her arms. "Hey, what's wrong?" 

"I'm sorry." Jemma sniffles, tears still pouring down her cheeks. "You--you were supposed to be getting some sleep and I ruined it."

"It's all right." His focus shifts to Alya, whose cries have quieted just a little. He pats her back and shushes her, and within a few minutes, she's asleep. Then he places his free hand on Jemma's tearstained cheek. "What's going on?" he whispers.

Jemma takes a shuddering breath. "I tried feeding her for an hour and she--she didn't gain anything! She hasn't gained anything in a week, and I don't know what I'm doing wrong." 

Fitz's blue eyes are red-rimmed and tired, but somehow they're also full of kindness and love. "Jemma. You're not doing anything wrong."

Jemma scoffs. "If that's true, then why hasn't she gotten back up to her birth weight?" She presses a hand to her forehead and digs her fingers into her scalp, briefly noticing how greasy her four-days-unwashed hair is. "She's seventeen days old, Fitz," she says helplessly. "She's supposed to be at her birth weight by now."

Fitz glances down at Alya, and Jemma wonders if he sees what she does--Alya's tiny arms, covered in wrinkly skin that looks too big for them. Then he looks back up at Jemma for a few moments, searching her face for something, before asking, "When she wakes up, if she seems hungry--d'you want to give her a bottle? Just a small one, maybe 200 ml, so you can still nurse her afterward if you want."

Jemma pictures the tins of formula Enoch picked up on what ended up being his final supply run before Alya arrived two and a half weeks early. She's avoided opening one, hoping that, given time, her milk supply would build up, but Alya's health is more important. "Yes."

\---

Overwhelmed by all the emotions swirling around in her--hope that Alya will take the bottle, drink all the formula, and grow like she needs to; relief at the thought of someone else being able to feed Alya so that maybe she can get some sleep as well as begin to feel that her body is her own again, at least sometimes; despair that she's failing her daughter somehow; frustration at her body for failing them both--Jemma cries while Fitz mixes up formula in their tiny kitchen. While the liquid gently heats up in the bottle warmer, he wraps an arm around her and presses a kiss to her hair. "It's okay."

Jemma bites the inside of her cheek and nods, rubbing Alya's back while the baby roots at her chest and fusses. The bottle warmer dings, and Fitz finishes getting the bottle ready and holds it out to her. 

Jemma stares at it for a second and then Alya's cries grow louder. "Could you--? That way she isn't confused in case I try to nurse her again."

"Yeah." He sets the bottle on the counter and takes Alya from her. After settling in a chair, he holds the bottle to Alya's lips. She immediately latches on, her hungry cries immediately stopping, leaving a now-unfamiliar but blissful silence in their wake.

Jemma half-wonders if she should feel jealous--of the bottle and the way Alya curls her fists around it calmly rather than butting it in frustration like she does with Jemma's breasts; or of Fitz for being able to feed their daughter so easily; or of both; her exhaustion-scrambled mind isn't sure. But instead, watching Fitz tilt the bottle just so, holding Alya's head at precisely the right angle, a grin lighting up his tired face as he whispers, "There you go. That's it," she just feels love. 

After just a few minutes, Fitz sets the now-empty bottle on the table and lifts Alya to his shoulder. "Here," Jemma says, snatching a kitchen towel from the counter for him to use as a burp rag.

"Thanks."

"No, thank you." She sighs. "I don't know why I didn't think of the formula earlier."

Fitz snorts, startling a burp out of Alya. "Maybe because you're more tired than you've been in your entire life."

Jemma hums in agreement, settling into the chair next to him. "It's worth it, though." She leans forward and rubs a finger across Alya's soft fist, curled against the baby's cheek. Alya blinks sleepily, content for once.

"Hey, Happy Valentine's Day."

"What?" Eyes narrowed, Jemma looks at the digital clock above the stove, which shows that it's just past midnight. "Oh. I suppose it is Valentine's Day, isn't it?" She brushes a hand over Alya's soft hair. "The day you were supposed to make your appearance."

Fitz chuckles. "That's right. I sort of forgot she was supposed to be born on Valentine's Day."

Jemma nods. "I'm glad she's here already, though it would've been nice for her to grow a bit more before her arrival." She pushes down the urge to rush Alya to the lab and weigh her again.

"Hey." Fitz reaches for her hand. "She's gonna be okay. You know why?"

From the besotted look in his eyes, Jemma knows it's going to be something sappy, but she's never been able to resist it when it comes from Fitz. "Why?"

He brushes her hand with his thumb. "'Cause she has you for a mum. And you'll do anything for her."

Jemma smiles at him as her eyes well up again. "Thank you."

Fitz nods, shooting her a last warm look before kissing the top of Alya's head. "D'you want to try to nurse her, now that she's not starving?"

Jemma can feel her shoulders tensing at the prospect but forces them to relax, drawing a deep breath through her nose. "I suppose I should."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Fitz says immediately. "Enoch can get formula anytime we need it on Xandar, remember? We can contact him now and ask him to get more. If you want to stop nursing her, it's totally up to you."

"No, I want to try." She reaches for Alya, whose eyes keep fluttering shut for longer intervals. "We'll see how it goes just topping her off with formula for now."

Fitz accompanies them to the cockpit, carrying Jemma's giant water bottle, and for once Alya latches fairly quickly. Jemma knows it's partly that Alya's not starving, thanks to the formula, but she also wonders if it's because Fitz is there, keeping her calm and as a result keeping Alya calm. She knows he would sit with her every time she has to nurse, which is why she hasn't asked him. One of them should get some sleep.

Alya still doesn't nurse for long, falling asleep just after Jemma switches her to the other side, but Jemma's at least somewhat reassured that her belly is full. She knows she should pump the side Alya didn't nurse from, but she's so tired. For a few moments, she watches her sleeping daughter, gazing at her tiny chest rising and falling and her eyelashes brushing her cheeks, before sensing Fitz's eyes on her. "What?"

He's got that spellbound look on his face again. "You're such a good mum. I hope you know that."

Jemma doesn't have the energy to smile, but she hopes he can see the warmth in her tired eyes. "And you're such a good dad. I loved watching you feed her."

"I really enjoyed that. It was nice to give you a break too, even if you were sitting there watching us instead of sleeping." He stands and holds out a hand to help her up. "Speaking of--c'mon, let's try to get some sleep."

Alya stays asleep as they shuffle silently to the nursery and as Jemma places her gingerly in her cot while Fitz turns on the white noise. She stays asleep when they ease the door shut and tiptoe down the hall to their bunk. In fact, she sleeps for over three hours, which means that after Jemma's done pumping, they get to sleep for three hours straight as well. It's the best possible present for their first Valentine's Day as parents (though the chocolate Enoch brings back that afternoon when he returns from his supply run is a very close second).

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I adored writing [a fluid, ever-changing, beautiful thing](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/28387107), I really wasn't sure if I would write another Fitzsimmons fic. But earlier today I realized I'd made Alya's due date Valentine's Day--which was not intentional; I chose May 10 for the date from which her due date would be calculated because it was the day in 2019 when season 6 premiered and then realized 40 weeks after May 10, 2019 was February 14, 2020--but never really addressed it aside from a brief mention because she was born early. And here we are!
> 
> (Also I can't believe I wrote this in like two hours. Technically I'm posting it after midnight EST, but it's still Valentine's Day in some parts of the world!)


End file.
